


The Horrors of being Magical

by HeleneOfFlowers



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jehanparnasse Week 2017, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, actually it's more of a quarter-happy ending, death tw, gore tw, semi-happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-16 19:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12349626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeleneOfFlowers/pseuds/HeleneOfFlowers
Summary: In a world where Magic exists, most people don't know about it. Those who do prefer they didn't, for nothing good ever comes with Magic. It is because of Magic that Jehan wishes he had never met Montparnasse. When things grow out of control, the consequences are worse than he could ever have imagined.





	1. Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and happy Jehanparnasse Week 2017! For this year, I've decided to write a seven chapter fic where each chapter is driven by the theme for that day. This story will be updated every day until the end of Jehanparnasse Week. Please read the tags and skip this story if you don't like/want to read major character death. That being out of the way, I hope you enjoy the story (as much as that's possible with major character death).

  
[[This wonderful cover was made by Mardisoir](http://mardisoir.tumblr.com/post/170381267615/the-horrors-of-being-magical-by-mon-parnasse-book#notes)]

Whoever had decided the word magical had to define something positive had clearly never experienced anything truly magical. Magical meant countless nights without sleep, going through the day with your energy leaving you by the ounce and it especially meant immeasurable, insufferable pain. To be magical was to be born with a curse no one truly wanted, and rare were the ones who found peace with the suffering and even more rarely were the liked. The world was filled with Magic, and most people alive would never notice during their lifetime. Everything was magical, but not everyone. The concrete blowing up in summer was magical, the branch falling on the tram wire which would make you late to work was magical. Bad Luck was magical as well, in opposition to good luck, which was simply just another word for coincidence. Thankfully for everyone magical, the humans had not yet realized there were intruders among their midst, people that were not like them, or everyone would have had to deal with being cast out and having to hide from everything they knew for as long as it took the general population to realize it wasn't their fault, they didn't want this either, if anyone could relieve them from their magic, it would be a miracle. 

For most of his life, Jehan had felt that his magic made him unique, and since being unique was something he had always dreamed of, the price he had to pay for it seemed rather small. Now, he realized why the others had hollowly laughed at him when he had told them that and he wished it was in his powers to turn back time, to erase actions and events, to make so many things _unhappen_. Unfortunately for him, Magic never did what one wished it did, and so his dreams would remain forever unanswered. 

It was the last Sunday of October and Jehan was miserable. He had spent the last days drowning in guilt, tearing himself apart with self-hate, cutting himself to pieces using his memories as a personal guillotine. No matter how much time passed, the past would forever remain burned deep in his brain as if someone had used a welding machine to make sure he could never forget it. His pale face. The blood staining his clothes and his hair, dripping onto the ground before disappearing into the gutter. His eyes, devoid of life and starring into the Void. The ashy skin, turning more and more grey by the minute. His limbs lying on the ground, bend at odd angles. The cracking of the bones still resonating in Jehan's ears. The silence which had surrounded the entire scene, covering it like a big pillow which suffocates you slowly and without a sound.  
The moments in which the memories did not keep him awake with the horror of what had happened, he was terrorised by the nightmares which would follow him everywhere, even into his dreams. There, everything would be worse. It was like reliving the entire moment with the only exception that with every time he had to do so, he would notice little things, small details which only made everything worse. Where the first time he had only seen His body being lifted into the air before being slammed into the ground, now he could distinguish a small blood vessel that had popped in his right eyes which were wide open in an expression Jehan didn't want to identify, a mixture between surprise, excruciating pain and the recognition that all his liveliness was leaving him. Being awake was a nightmare Jehan could never have imagined before and being asleep was even worse. By now, even the Amis de L'ABC knew something bad had happened. They saw the bags under his eyes, they noticed how with each passing day, his hair got more dull, could see how he was slowly getting weaker. They did the best they could to help. One of them would sit down next to him and simply talk, attempting to distract him from whatever dark thoughts were plaguing him and making him a danger for everyone, especially himself. Other would simply brush against Jehan's arm, trying their best to offer comfort, to offer help. None of it worked. Each time he noticed what they were doing, he would weakly raise the corners of his mouth, never managing to fake a smile and leave, only to come back the next day, even weaker and more miserable than before. No one knew what to do. He wasn't talking to Enjolras, wasn't joking with Courfeyrac, wasn't discussing new things with Combeferre, he wasn't laughing with Jolly about Bossuet's bad luck, wasn't arguing with Bahorel about his clothes, wasn't trying to make Grantaire try a new blend of tea when he was hungover and he wasn't spending his free time raving about Feuilly's new fan. Everybody knew something was wrong with Jehan, but nobody knew what. None of them knew about Jehan's magic. None of them knew he had killed Montparnasse.


	2. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Montparnasse was interesting, getting to know him amazing and falling in love with him undiscribable. If only they wasn't Jehan's Magic standing in the way of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you see this? 5000 words of happy Jehanparnasse? 5000 Words? Well you better appreciate it now because it's not going to happen again.

_Meeting and getting to know Montparnasse had been like discovering a beautiful but poisonous flower with a strong smell. At first impossible to ignore but with each time one was subjected to its presence once more, it was harder and harder to let go again until in the end - knowing the entire time how dangerous - it was more important than air itself while the entire time knowing how dangerous it was. If only Jehan had realized how easy it is to destroy a simple flower._  
_In the beginning, it had been like a dark modern fairy tale which would irrevocably finish with a happy ending for any other possibility was simply not acceptable._  
_Jehan had decided to visit the „bad“ part of town, the one his parents had warned him about, the one his classmates at school had made fun of without ever gathering the courage to approach it. Jehan had never cared about that kind of gossip and now his sense of adventure had finally brought him here. Dusk had already broken in and the first stars were appearing in the sky. The dark brick buildings where shrouded in shadows and only one out of three street lamps seemed to work. From time to time a cat would meow and something small would shuffle around the next corner, fast and not wanting to be seen. If he was being honest with himself, he had expected more. He was already thinking about going back when somebody ran around the corner and straight into him. Both fell to the ground. Jehan was somewhat stunned, not having expected to meet anyone anymore after having run around alone for quite some time. The other person on the other hand had quickly gotten up again, frantically looking around. He was wearing a shirt which used to be white but was now stained with some dark liquid which was hard to identify in the dark. Finally, they looked at Jehan, who was still lying on the concrete, to enraptured by the sight which offered itself to him. He was giving off an air of confidence which Jehan had never seen before and had something special about him although it was impossible to tell what exactly it was. Unfortunately, he wasn't given the opportunity to take everything in more deeply for as soon as their eyes met, the man ran away in the opposite direction he had come from._  
_At last, Jehan tried to get up but when he put his hand on the concrete to push himself into an upright position, he withdrew it as quickly as possible. There was something sharp on the ground. Curious, Jehan turned on the flash light on his smartphone and took a closer look. It seemed to be a very large pin of some sort. The head was decorated with expensive looking jewels, some polished and carved into flowers, others forming leaves or small branches. It was ethereal. There was no other way to describe its beauty. Suddenly there were hectic footsteps and loud screaming from the small street the other man had come from. He must have dropped the pin. Without hesitating for one more second, Jehan ran back into the direction he had come from. There were people coming whom he didn't want anything to do with. It was time to go back to known territory._

_From this night on, the pin was stored in a safe and hidden space in Jehan's apartment: his storage for everything magical. There was a hollow space under the parquet flooring which was just big enough for everything he needed to hide from others who were to curious for their own good. Wrapped into a piece of Bordeaux velvet, Jehan had put it at the very bottom of this storage, under the two knives and the sleep enhancing potions. Now, after two weeks, he had almost forgotten about it._  
_He had just come back from his dayjob at the local bookshop, for even or especially magical beings had to work like every other person as well, and wanted nothing more than fall into his bed. He was dead tired for his magic had exhausted him and it seemed even more than usual. Unfortunately for him, something didn't want him to find rest, at least not in this moment. The apartment was a mess, the complete opposite of how he had left it in the morning. Strangely enough, it wasn't absolute chaos, but more as if someone had been looking for something, turned the whole place upside down and just forgotten to put everything back into place. The carpet was neatly rolled out of the way, the books had been taken out of their shelves and stacked into big piles onto the floor. The pillows had been tossed next to them and even the flowers had been taken out of their vases and were now lying on the floor. Curious and mentally already making a list of what he could tidy up this night and what would have to wait for the next day if not the weekend altogether, Jehan stepped into his bedroom to assess the damage made there. To his surprise, the intruder hadn't left yet. Currently bend over one of the drawers and frantically taking out piles of clothing to stack them on the bed, he had dark, short hair and was wearing tight trousers. It was the man who had run into him two weeks earlier, with the only difference that he was wearing clean clothes this time. When he turned around to put down the next package of t-shirts, he froze in his movement, looking at Jehan like a deer caught in the headlights. Considering the situation he found himself in, this was a pretty accurate description with the exception that this man seemed to be everything but a deer. As soon as he had registered Jehan's presence his entire body had tensed up as if he found himself in great danger which seemed ridiculous considering Jehan's slender frame and the exhausted look on his face but then again, nobody feels safe when they get caught breaking into somebody's apartment. No one moved for several seconds, both too taken aback by the situation they weren't prepared for. Finally, it was Jehan who made the first move. He cleared his throat and took one step forward. Instinctively and immediately, the other took one step back, nearly running into the bed in the process._  
_“Hello.” said Jehan. There was nothing else he could think of that anyone could otherwise say to a very attractive burglar who was practically standing on top of what he was looking for and yet searching in the entirely wrong place. “That's not where I hid the pin you're looking for, you know?”_  
_“Then were is it? I've nearly searched the entire place already.” He carefully laid down the t-shirts on the bed behind him before turning around to face Jehan again. Jehan sighed and made a sign for the man to follow him. He led him to the kitchen._  
_“Please sit down. I'm going to get your pin for you. Tea and coffee are in the second cupboard from the left if you want any,” said Jehan, pointing at one of the chair that were neatly pushed under the table in the corner._  
_“You're seriously gonna make me wait here for a damn pin? How paranoid are you?”_  
_“You don't expect me to show a total stranger where I hide my things, do you? How naïve do you think I am? Especially since you broke into my apartment. Considering that, you should actually be grateful that I am nice enough to give it back after you've put everything out of place. Now wait here, I will be back in a second.”_  
_The man didn't answer anything._  
_Without wasting any more time, Jehan went back to his bedroom and rolled away the carpet which covered the floor under his bed as far as he could before grabbing a letter opener which was lying on the drawer which was still open. Jamming the small piece of steel into the ridge between two planks and leveraged one open. Beneath it was a piece of cotton cloth which once put aside, revealed Jehan's collection of magical belongings. Getting to the very bottom of the box, he finally pulled out the hair pin, still wrapped in velvet. As quickly as possible, Jehan put back everything he didn't need and covered everything up, first with the cotton cloth and then with the floorboard. It hadn't taken longer than 2 minutes and when he came back to the kitchen, the man had just finished heating up water and was brewing what appeared to be a mug of black tea. Turning around when Jehan entered the room, he asked, “You want one too?” while pointing at the mug._  
_“Yes, please.” While the man was getting another teabag, Jehan unwrapped the pin and handed it to him._  
_“Here.”_  
_For a few seconds, it seemed as if time was frozen. Jehan was holding the pin in his outstretched arm, the man was staring at it and in his gaze was a nearly unnoticeable emptiness as if the object had enraptured him and he wasn't truly there anymore. But as soon as this moment had passed, everything was back to normal._  
_“Ah, thanks.”_  
_He grabbed the pin and quickly stashed it inside the leather jacket he was wearing, as if he was afraid someone might see it. Since he was already holding out his hand, Jehan decided to rise to the occasion. It wasn't every day that a good looking man broke into your apartment and accepted your invitation for tea._  
“My name is Jean by the way, but feel free to call me Jehan.”  
_The man shook his hand._  
_“Montparnasse. Nice to meet you. You're French?”_  
_“On my mother's side yes. And you?”_  
_“Simply eccentric.” By now both their teas had finished brewing and so they sat down at the kitchen table, carrying an light but for both very nice conversation. They must have been talking for at least half an hour when Jehan couldn't suppress his yawn anymore._  
_“I'm sorry, but I am exhausted. Would you mind if I leave you alone?”_  
_Montparnasse simply shook his head, understanding glimmering in his eyes as if he knew from experience what it felt like to have every single ounce of energy drained from your bones and wanting nothing more than to find a bit of rest._  
_“Feel free to help yourself to some more tea, just make sure to leave your mug in the sink, will you?” he asked, apologetic_  
_“Of course.”_  
_“Thank you.” Jehan smiled tiredly. “Good night then.”_  
_“Good night.”_  
_In his bedroom, Jehan made sure to be quick in putting away the clothes Montparnasse had stacked on the bed in his search for the pin before going to the bathroom to get ready to sleep. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out._  
_The next morning, an eerie silence filled the air. Jehan was alone in his apartment once again. His room was still in the same state it was in the night before. The shirts were still lying on top of the drawer and the carpet was still rolled up since Jehan had forgotten to put it back into place before going to sleep due to his exhaustion the night before. So, Montparnasse who had decided and succeeded (not that it was surprising, Jehan's apartment was anything but burglar safe after all) to break in to get his pin back had not been a very curious but at the same time interesting dream. As he was getting dressed, Jehan wondered what Montparnasse could want with such a pin that it was so important. It was beautiful and looked expensive, yes, but not to the point that he had to start a two week manhunt to find it, without even the certainty to get it back. Very much awake but still sleepy, Jehan made his way to the kitchen. Coffee was made, bread was toasted and buttered and breakfast was relished. Having finished eating, he washed his dishes and noted pleasantly surprised that Montparnasse had washed both his own and Jehan's mug before leaving the flat. Maybe he would forgive him for trespassing after all, Jehan told himself, willingly denying that he already had forgiven him when he had offered him the tea in the first place if he had ever held any grudges against him at all. When he walked back into the living room, Jehan nearly tripped over the edge of the carpet and landed face first on the floor, but he just managed to catch himself before making a painful landing, thankfully only having to suffer the minor inconvenience of catching a fistful of his long red hair in his mouth. Spluttering and trying to get the last hair still caught between his lips and on his tongue which was a disgusting feeling, Jehan laboriously managed to get up. His living room looked perfectly normal, even cleaner and tidier than he had ever seen it since moving in several years ago. The carpet covered the floor again, the pillows were fluffed a neatly arranged on the couch and even the books had been placed back on the shelves. On further inspection, it revealed they were even arranged rather accurately in the same order than they had been before with a few exceptions. How could Montparnasse managed to put everything back into place without Jehan noticing? He must have been much more exhausted than he had originally thought. Now he regretted it even more not to have gotten Montparnasse's phone number or any other way to reach him. Jehan would have loved to get to know him better._  
Another two days past and it was the weekend. Jehan had just come back from his monthly book club with Combeferre and Cosette. He was holding a hot cup of Ceylon tea in his right hand and desperately trying to keep his long hair out of his face which proved to be a nearly impossible feat with the strong wind currently blowing through the streets when he saw a tall figure leaning against a tree, hands buried deep in the pockets of its jacket and a lit cigarette between the lips. Without wasting a second or a single chance, Jehan made his way over to him. He had already missed the opportunity to ask him for his number once, he would not let it happen again.  
_“Hello!”_  
_Montparnasse slightly jumped, startled by Jehan's cheering voice._  
_“Hello. I did not expect you here.”_  
_“Me neither. I mean, I did not expect to see you here either.”_  
_They starred awkwardly at each other, Jehan waiting if Montparnasse was going to say anything and Montparnasse not knowing what to say._  
_“I wanted to thank you for cleaning up my apartment the other day. It was very nice to wake up without having any extra work to do to get everything back into order.”_  
_“Don't mention it, it was me who made a mess in the first place. I would also have tidied up the clothes I took out of the drawer but I think it would have been too much. I didn't want to invade your privacy.”_  
_“You broke into my apartment, Montparnasse. I don't think there is any way you could invade someone's privacy even more.”_  
_“Yeah but you weren't at home and that's something I made sure of. There is no point in breaking in somewhere if the owner is gonna be there to see you climbing through the window.”_  
_“But you still broke into my flat and on top of that you went through all my stuff. There really are not a lot of personal boundaries you could overstep anymore.”_  
_“Yeah, well, it's just that... It's not the same okay? I'm not some kind of creep to go through your stuff and even if it's just to put it back while you're sleeping in the bed being totally defenceless. Stop arguing about it, you're ruining your entire thank you.”_  
_Jehan laughed._  
_“Well, thank you once again. Both for cleaning up and not watching me sleep. That was very chivalrous of you.”_  
_There was an awkward silence. Once again it was Jehan who broke it._  
_“Did you really climb in through the window?”_  
_“Yeah, why?”_  
_“I live on the fourth floor.”_  
_“I can be very athletic when I want to be and gymnastics and climbing have always been one of my strengths. I'm very flexible when I need to be.”_  
_“I can imagine. What do you think of giving me your number, so we can meet up later and put your flexibility to good use?”_  
_Jehan had a dashing smile and knew how to get what he wanted. This time was no different. A few minutes later, he walked away with a new contact in his phone and a date for the following week._  
_After their first date, which went amazingly in both Jehan's and Montparnasse's opinion, they saw each other nearly every day except for a few times when Montparnasse was “busy with work related stuff” as he liked to put it. Jehan knew not to ask and so everything went smoothly in the best of all possible worlds. The only thing noticeable was how tired Montparnasse seemed to grow with each time they saw each other. His skin was becoming slightly dull, something which should have been impossible considering Montparnasse's great attention to skincare and the dark circles under his eyes were growing more and more prominent, which he tried to hide under layers of concealer. In the end, he simply stumbled into Jehan's flat, murmured a slurred “hello” and fell right onto the couch, where he slept the entire night. Jehan was worried but he didn't know what to do. There was nothing he could do to help Montparnasse. It wasn't that he didn't sleep, Jehan knew that couldn't be the reason for his constant exhaustion considering how much time he spend in Morpheus' arms. He was helpless. That was until one day, Grantaire took him aside to talk to him in confidence._  
_Grantaire was the only other magical Jehan knew personally and was close with. He was withdrawn and moody and Jehan probably had him seen drunk more often than sober but there was nobody better for weird latenight conversations about modern norms taken over from wrong translations of old classics. Both tried to avoid talking about Magic whenever they could but Grantaire even more so. For him to bring up the topic on his own meant serious business. Jehan had an uneasy feeling as they were standing in front of each other in a small and otherwise empty back room of the Musain Café. Grantaire looked uneasy as well. He took a deep breath before speaking._  
_“Jehan, you have to stop seeing Montparnasse. It's the only option for both of you.”_  
_Of everything things Grantaire could have said, this wasn't something Jehan was prepared for. He couldn't possibly be serious_!  
_“How do you know of Montparnasse.”_  
_“Éponine, one of my friends works with him. She told me about you two and what condition he's in. Jehan, you have to listen to me.”_  
_“You can't be serious.”_  
_“I would never be kidding about something like this. Can't you see him growing weaker and weaker every day? Can't you see that he gets closer to losing all the energy he has left each time you see each other? You're Magic is killing him Jehan!”_  
_Jehan was frozen in place. How dared Grantaire say something like that? Montparnasse never looked healthier and happier than when they were together. His Magic had nothing to do with this, he was simply working too much and not getting enough sleep. It had nothing to do with Jehan, he would never allow it_.  
_“Jehan, are you listening to me? You must stop seeing him, no matter how important he is to you. You must stop seeing him because he is so important to you. Do you hear me?”_  
_Jehan had listened and Jehan had heard and understand every single phrase. Without saying another word, he turned around, left the room and slammed the door behind him. Grantaire frantic screaming of his name was ignored. As Jehan left the café, everyone's followed him until he was out of sight._  
_It was freezing outside, and the rain was pouring. Jehan paid no mind the either of these very unsettling circumstances and thought of nothing else but getting to his apartment as quickly as possible. As soon as he stepped into the living room, he let himself fall onto the couch and buried his head in the single pillow which adorned the piece of furniture. His thoughts and emotions were playing badminton inside his head. What if Grantaire was right? It did seem reasonable that Jehan was related to Montparnasse's deteriorating health. Magic was well known for ruining everything it got in touch with. But Jehan knew how to control everything, he knew that it wasn't him who did this to Montparnasse. He stayed like this for the next several hours, ignoring his phone as it buzzed with every ongoing message. He ignored his ringtone going off three times and he did his best to ignore the incessant ringing of his doorbell. What he could not bring himself to ignore in the end however, was the maniacal knocking on the window. Looking up, the wrinkles of the pillow deeply ingrained into his cheeks and forehead, leaving red streaks, Jehan saw Montparnasse dangerously perched onto his windowsill trying to get his attention by tapping against the window all the while not wanting to break the thin glass._  
_“Let me in.” Despite the lack of actual material used for the window, Montparnasse's voice was still muffled and hard to understand but there was no way to mistake what he was asking considering his lip movements, the position he was in and how he looked deeply pleading at Jehan. Not having any other choice, he opened the window and moved aside to let Montparnasse in. Like a sack of potatoes and still more graceful than anyone else could ever hope to be, he fell onto the couch. Jehan couldn't bear to look at him. There was a kind of hidden worry, if not even tenderness in Montparnasse's gaze, laced with fear of what all of this could mean. He had never seen Jehan like this, not even remotely. Jehan was open, in touch with his emotions, with what was happening around and in him. He never shied away from talking about whatever was bothering him and did his best to help everyone around him and this included Montparnasse, no matter how much he tried to defend himself against it. But this, this isolation, this withdrawal, it wasn't like him. Something must have happened and deep within him, Montparnasse wasn't sure he wanted to know what. He asked anyway._  
_“What is it?”_  
_The question meant nothing and everything at the same time. What is it that makes you sad? What is it that makes you turn your back to me? What is it that I possibly did wrong? What is it that you need to say to me even though you don't want to._  
_Jehan took a deep breath. He had made a decision. Was this how Grantaire had felt before he told him that he knew about Montparnasse? But he had done it because he knew it was something he needed to do, and so did Jehan. There was no going back now. He finally faced Montparnasse and immediately wished he hadn't. There was no way he could pull through with this, there was no way he could bear to see the hurt on Montparnasse's face and he would be hurt, there was no other possibility for what was about to happen. But if he didn't pull through, he would be hurt even more, both of them would be hurt more badly than they ever could imagine. He had to do this, there was no other way._  
_“We have to stop seeing each other.”_  
_His heart was screaming out, it felt as if it would escape from his ribs that kept it in their cage at any moment. But we can still talk! If I cannot see you, let me hear your voice, your thoughts, let me know that you still think of me. Don' leave me alone, for if you do that I will not bear it. Jehan's heart was so loud he couldn't hear anything else, but his lips kept silent and not one sound escaped._  
_Montparnasse wore the same expression Jehan had with Grantaire. Utter disbelief and denied realisation of what was happening._  
_“What are you saying? What do you mean? Why?”_  
_“It's the only way! It's better for both of us! Can't you see how weak you've become?”_  
_“What do you mean by weak? The only way for what? For fuck's sake, Jehan, explain yourself I have no idea what you're talking about here!”_  
_“Your skin is nearly the same colour as my wallpaper, 'Parnasse, and that' not how it's supposed to be! I'm draining and if we don't stop seeing each other you will die!” Tears had already gathered in Jehan's eyes. Now that he had begun, he couldn't bring himself to stop. It was as if a massive floodgate of selfdoubt that had plagued him for longer that he would ever admit himself, as if the action of actually and seriously talking about Montparnasse's deteriorating health had something profoundly liberating in and of itself. Montparnasse on the other hand, wasn't understanding anything and was lost with the entire situation he had never expected to encounter when he had decided on a whim to visit Jehan earlier this day. He needed an explanation, to clear things up and there was no way that was going to happen if Jehan stayed in the state he was currently in. He somehow had to calm down. Wrapping his hands around his shoulders, Montparnasse had no other choice but to force Jehan to sit down next to him._  
_“Jehan, I have no idea what you're talking about? Why would I die? How are you draining me? Draining me of what? Take deep breaths...1...2...3, breathe with me, that's good.”_  
_It seemed to work. “Jehan, I don't understand anything of what you're saying, it doesn't make any sense. Yes, I might be getting sick, but that is no reason for us to stop seeing each other. Please, explain to me what you mean.”_  
_Now it was Jehan's turn to be filled with fear. He hadn't thought so far. Of course, he had expected to have to explain Montparnasse about his magic, had spent countless nights awake thinking through best to worst scenarios but he hadn't thought it would be like this, hadn't thought it would be so soon. It was as if a giant ball of concrete was sitting in his stomach and crushing his entire torso, keeping his lungs from expanding and his heart from pumping regularly. He continued to count in his head with his breaths for these was nothing else he could do at the moment or he would panic again._  
_“Do you remember how as kids people would always tell fairy tales and stories with evil witches and wizards and how they hated everyone and wanted nothing but destruction for destructions sake?”_  
_“Yeah, of course, but what...”_  
_“And do you remember how of course never anyone ever believed any of these stories or that witched existed or that Magic was possible?”_  
_“Yeah, but that doesn't...”_  
_“And I know I really don't have any right to ask that of you because you have a right to get answers but please don't interrupt me or ask any questions until I'm finished because I don't think I can do this a second time.”_  
_This time, Montparnasse simply nodded. This was neither the time nor the place for words on his behalf._  
_“Well, most of what I just said is right. Witches and wizards don't exist, and Dragons are fake and there never are or were any Princesses to be saved from lonely towers in the middle of the forest. But Magic... Magic is very real and its horrible and its never like people think it is. It's like a parasite that sits deep under your skin and feeds on your life energy so you're constantly tired and if you have enough of it sometimes you can feed it some of your energy and then you can influence something around you but never in the way that you want or need to. There is no possibility of control. But because we're constantly losing our energy, we also have the potential to draw out and feed on the energy of others, so we don't fall into a coma or die because we don't have any energy. And that’s why you’re so weak all the time. I’m really sorry, ‘Parnasse, I don’t want to take your energy, I really don’t. But I can’t control it! I don’t even know when specifically, and how much I’m taking from you! This is just so much higher than what I can understand, and I wish I could stop and I want to stay…”_  
_From one moment to the other, Jehan was cut short by Montparnasse hugging him. His face pressed into his leather jacket, Jehan was too taken aback to utter a single word or even a single syllable. Or all the reactions he could have expected, of everything he had thought of and prepared himself for, this wasn’t one. Montparnasse should have been angry, disappointed, screaming at him or just saying nothing before disappearing forever. But hugging Jehan came as a surprise._  
_“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”_  
_Jehan could feel Montparnasse’s jaw move where it was buried into his hair, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have realized Montparnasse had said something in the first place._  
_“You must hate me. We’re stealing from people and taking what’s most important to them. We’re inhuman. Knowing what I really am makes you leave me.”_  
_Jehan didn’t dare to lift his head in fear of seeing the look on Montparnasse’s face. He could feel his jaw clenching._  
_“You’re more human that anyone I’ve ever known, Jehan. Don’t ever think otherwise. You’re perfect the way you are, do you understand?”_  
_Feebly, Jehan nodded. It was a movement without much conviction, but it was better than no answer at all._  
_“Do you still want me to leave you?”_  
_This time, Jehan had no other choice but to look at Montparnasse._  
_“No, I don’t. But you have to. Because what I want even less is you suffering because of me. Maybe we can see each other again when you’ve gotten better again, but for now… you have to stay away from me.”_  
_“Can I call you? Or can you drain me through electromagnetic waves as well? Because that would suck.”_  
_Jehan chuckled. Thank God Montparnasse was thinking the same way he did._  
_“No, you can call me. I would love you to call me. I don’t think I could survive without hearing your voice.”_  
_Now it was Montparnasse’s turn to smile. It was a smile that exuberated with relief and happiness. He slowly unclasped Jehan’s hands which were still buried into his leather jacket like a very strong set of claws that didn’t want to let go._  
_“I’m gonna leave you now because at the moment, the one who looks as if he needed to be alone and regain some of his energy is definitely you. I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay? And I really hope we can see each other again as soon as possible.”_  
_Jehan nodded again, once again too overwhelmed by emotions, both negative and positive, to say anything._  
_Montparnasse kissed him on his forehead, softly and yet so full of confidence, promises and reassurance, and smiled when he stood up. A few second later, Jehan heard the door of his apartment fall shut. The next moment, he could feel his phone vibrate in his pocket from an incoming call. As soon as Montparnasse could, indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please don't hesitate and come talk to me either on tumblr ([Helene-Of-Flowers](http://helene-of-flowers.tumblr.com/)) or on twitter ([HeleneOfFlowers](https://twitter.com/HeleneOfFlowers))!  
> I hope you have a nice day/evening/night (whatever fits you best at the moment you're reading this) :)


	3. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be Dead is a dreadful thing, but to be among the living and be conscious of it is worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! (If you celebrate it. If you don't, I hope you have a fantastic day and week ahead of you!) This chapter is a bit shorter -I told you the 5000 words from yesterday wouldn't happen again- but it's an important passing point to the next chapter tomorrow and important for plot reasons. I hope you enjoy it and please tell me if there are any mistakes so I can correct them since I'm not a native speaker :)

Once in every while, it becomes impossible to shake the feeling that we aren’t alone even when nobody is in the same room or vicinity as us. Sometimes it is just an impression thrown upon us by our subconscious and furthered by clichés we have been subjucated to since our deepest childhood: dark alleys, a cold draft, a strange sound. At other times, in the rarest of moments, it feels nothing like this. Quite the contrary. It feels like burning hot lava clawing its way up your throat until you cannot breathe, your head being compressed so much it might explode at any moment, the air so heavy you feel like you’re being crushed through the ground. Being haunted is never something enjoyable for the Dead and the Unnatural should never mix with the living and the Humans. 

Jehan was dragging himself through the streets, feeling as if he might collapse every moment. At the time he was already destroyed spiritually and mentally, now it was his body that made him feel like dying. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to leave all the pain behind and to fade into oblivion. He knew of nothing but Magic that should make him feel like this and even when his Magic had taken the last bits of his energy, it had felt differently, more as if he was made of rubber that was slowly melting in the sun. Now, Jehan simply hoped he could make it back to his bed without losing his mind and conscience. With each step he took, with each meter he got closer to his apartment, the noises of the city grew quieter. By the time he reached his door, the only thing left was a high sound as if there was a back coupling occurring inside his ears. He managed to open the door and to stumble inside his apartment but as soon as he stepped into his living room, his feet caught themselves in the carpet and he fell head first into the pillow on the couch. Under any other circumstances Jehan would have cried out from hitting his knees on the floor and his more than hurtful landing, but he felt nothing but the already agonizing pain that shot straight through his body as if he was an anthropomorphic wire under current. Suddenly, his cheek grew cold, freezing even. Not in a cooling way as would a bag of ice on a really hot summer day, but more like the feeling you get when your tongue gets stuck on a metal pole in the deepest of winter with the exception that the freezing pole happened to be a sharp knife. If he had had the energy, Jehan would have recoiled from the feeling immediately, but in his condition, he could barely manage to register its presence and the absolute horror it made him feel. Suddenly, everything disappeared. The boiling heat. The freezing cold. The deep sea like pressure on Jehan’s body. All that was left was a heavy but pleasantly warm hand resting on his cheeks. Exhausted, Jehan just so managed to drag his eyes up the hand, the arm, the shoulder, the neck to finally settle upon Montparnasse’s worried face.

The clock on the wall behind him displayed Midnight.

For one second, the moment seemed to hang in the air, before everything came crashing down. From the moment Montparnasse appeared, Jehan could feel him slipping away from his grip, both in the figurative and the literal sense. There was no way he would lose him again. He wouldn’t allow it. He _couldn’t_ allow it. Montparnasse had to stay with him!

“Stay,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself, fearing if he was too loud, he might wake up and all this had been nothing but a dream. If this was nothing but a dream, he would have happily kept sleeping for the rest of his life and never wake up, if it only meant having Montparnasse with him once more.

“I only have one minute, Jehan. As soon as November begins, I will be gone. There is nothing to prevent that.”

“No. I will keep you here. I want you with me. You deserve nothing else but to be back. It should never have happened. If we could trade places and I could make you live once more, I would gladly do so.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. You must stay here. The livings are your place, Jehan. You belong here.”

With each passing seconds, Montparnasse grew fainter and fainter, both in vision and in touch. In a few moments, his warmth would have disappeared completely and he would be gone forever. Now it was Jehan’s turn to take his face into his hands, holding onto Montparnasse with all his might, with all that he could, trying to keep him with him.

“If only I could take back what I did to you, if I could give my body and my life to bring you back, I would.”

The clock hit one minute past midnight. Montparnasse disappeared in a bright shower of stars and pure energy and with him did the rest of the room in front of Jehan’s eyes. Screwing them shut in surprise and to protect himself from the brightness, he felt the last bit of warmth from Montparnasse’s hand disappear and leave behind an icy cold, even worse than when he had come back at first.

When he could open his eyes again, Montparnasse was gone. No black curls, no dark eyes, no limbs and no clothes. He was completely and forever gone. Instead, however, Jehan was looking at a bony figure with brown red hair and enrapturing brown eyes looking back at him, laying on the couch in a position that could only be anything but comfortable and a position Jehan knew he had been in just now. Montparnasse was gone and with his disappearance, Jehan found himself gone from his own body, strangely floating in the air and staring back at his own face.


	4. Role Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is full of surprises and it turns out not even Death is a realm Magic shies away from.

From one moment to the next, Montparnasse had completely lost all orientation. First, he had been hovering above Jehan, worried sick about him since he looked on the verge of death through exhaustion and the next, he was alone, lying on some sort of soft horizontal ground in an environment that seemed far too familiar. Something red obscured his vision an tickled his nose. When he tried to tear it away, he jerked away when there was a sudden and painful tug at his scalp. It took him a second to register what was wrong. He had a scalp. Which automatically meant he had a head and a material body. How did this happen? He had been an immaterial ghost who wanted to talk to Jehan to know what he could do to help his situation and then wanted to help him considering the pain he seemed to be in, he wasn’t supposed to have a body. Hastily trying to get up, Montparnasse caught his feet somewhere and immediately lost his balance, nearly falling face first into the floor, had he not had the reflex to catch himself at the edge of the couch.   
Slender fingers with nails painted in pastel blue gripped into the soft material of the cushions and Montparnasse’s gaze stopped at a huge watch with a white leather wristband and a tacky and nearly obnoxiously colourful dial. He knew that watch. Faster and more coordinated that anyone could have expected after the crash he had just landed, Montparnasse found himself in front of the huge mirror that hung from the wall. Big brown eyes starred at him and a fluffy and very voluminous head of brown read hair made the figure in the reflecting glass look as if they had just come from an appointment with a hairdresser who didn’t know how to handle a hairdryer correctly. There was no doubt. He was inside Jehan’s body. Still completely disoriented and utterly confused by the entire situation, Montparnasse took in the room he was in. He knew this carpet and he recognized this incredibly ugly painting over the couch which looked as if a random assemblage of colours had been dropped onto the colours and then mixed equally randomly. There was no mistaking this apartment for anyone else’s but Jehan’s. Montparnasse was in Jehan’s apartment, in Jehan’s body and the only thing missing was Jehan himself. He had been here just moments ago, Montparnasse knew that! Where had he gone to? Suddenly, an ice cold feeling, as if somebody had put a cloth into water, let it freeze for several hours and then put it onto him overtook Montparnasse’s shoulder.   
If Jehan had just been in his own body and Montparnasse had been in some immaterial otherworldly form of energy where Jehan could feel him, but not see or hear him, and now Montparnasse was the one in Jehan’s body, then that could only mean that Jehan had taken his place. Turning around, Montparnasse tried to catch the coldness in his hands, but missed.   
“Jehan, can you hear me!”  
The ice-cold feeling was back on his shoulder, slowly creeping down to the back of his right hand.   
“What happened? Why am I in your body? Did you seriously change your place with me? What did I tell you about that? And how did you make it happen? I thought you couldn’t really control what you did with your magic.”  
The feeling grew even colder and for one short moment, Montparnasse feared he might lose his hand to frostbite if it went on like this. But the next moment, it was gone. Only a faint and cool prickling remained.   
“Okay, okay, I must calm down, otherwise this won’t work.”  
Montparnasse did his best to take a few deep breaths and to ignore the red hair that flew at the edges of his vision field since Jehan hadn’t secured it in a braid that morning. He had to think of something and fast.   
“Can you control where I’m feeling you?”  
The next moment, the cold was back on his right hand. One second later, it disappeared and came back on his cheek, as if someone was cradling his face.   
“Okay, um, my right is yes, and my left is no, okay? Does that work?”  
The cold moved back to Montparnasse’s right hand.   
“Good. Can you speak?”   
First, there was nothing. Then the feeling moved to his left hand.   
“Huh, why did I even ask. I couldn’t speak so why would you? Anyway, do you know what happened?”  
This time, Jehan touched him at both hand at the same time.   
“Yes and no? You’re not sure?”  
Right hand.   
“Okay, right. Do you think it has something to do with Magic?”  
Right hand.   
“Are you hurt?” Mentally cursing himself for asking such a stupid question - Jehan had just changed place with a dead person of course he was hurt -, Montparnasse barely had the presence of mind to notice the faint and very light feeling of cold on his left hand.   
“Do you know how to reverse this?”  
Left hand, again.   
They kept on talking like this until the early hours of the morning, at the kind of time where the sun begins to rise again, and the world feels as if it was just reborn. Montparnasse had just gone to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. The dark beverage was steaming and swirling up into the air. It would have looked like any other peaceful morning at Jehan’s apartment, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Jehan didn’t drink coffee, and that to any other person, it would have looked as if he was talking to thin air.   
For Montparnasse and Jehan, things were strange and unfixed, unknown. There were in a situation neither of them had experienced before, neither of them had ever expected to happen. But for now, they were stuck, Montparnasse in Jehan’s body and Jehan as some sort of formless entity made of pure energy. Montparnasse was Jehan now and Jehan had taken Montparnasse’s place and that’s how and where they were at this exact moment. They didn’t know how to fix this situation, they didn’t even know if they wanted to reverse it but at least they still had each other. It could have been a lot worse.


	5. Alternate Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say only the Dead know what comes after, and it's probably better that way.

After a few nights, Montparnasse grew to wake up as soon as he began missing the cold in his sleep, which normally indicated Jehan was next to him or at least somewhere in the same room. He knew there was no way to control Jehan in his current state, it probably wasn’t even possible for Jehan to control himself, that much Montparnasse knew from his own experience. No matter all of that, he desperately wished that Jehan could stay by his side forever and always. After death, living is a fearful thing to go through. 

For most of his time, Jehan did not know where he was. It seemed him as if as soon as Montparnasse did not look at him, didn’t speak with him, didn’t think of him, all that kept him in this World disappeared. He was drawn somewhere else, unable to escape. It felt like drowning, having your head pressed under water, having no other choice but to open your eyes instead of dying blind but instead of darkness, or the tiles of a swimming pool, or stones and seaweed at the bottom of a lake, there were images as if a movie was being played on the other side all around him. First, he saw himself in some period clothes, standing against a wall, wrists bound together. There were guns pointed at him. His lips were moving, he was saying and without any warning, without any sound, he collapsed onto the hart pavement. There was no doubt as to what had happened.  
The next images were of him again, this time in a beautiful garden, bathed in sunlight which nearly made it possible to feel the heat. Unfortunately, Jehan was too far away, too dead, so he continued shivering like no living being ever could. He continued to watch in horror as he was taken outside of the city in which he seemed to reside and how a man with skin disfigured by scars approached him, knife in hand and determination in his eyes. Once again, there was blood, and pain, and death and Jehan wanted nothing more than to look away but he couldn’t. No matter where he turned to, the images where there. He wasn’t even sure whether he was turning. Whatever this dimension, this reality, this universe was, it felt as if the only sense Jehan had been left with was the insatiable cold that was eating him up alive through his flesh and muscles down to his bones.  
Suddenly, everything stopped. The silence became deafening. The images disappeared. Even the impression of drowning vanished. Now it felt as if Jehan was floating in the void. It wasn’t the same as being surrounded by complete darkness, something he had experiences often enough, no matter how much he wished he didn’t. There wasn’t darkness, there wasn’t light, there weren’t colours. The only thing present around Jehan was nothingness. He didn’t know how to describe it if he ever needed to do so. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything to describe. Was Jehan even there? There wasn’t anything that proved him he existed in this place. No body to see or to touch, no voice to hear, no energy to feel. Nothing. As abruptly as the void had appeared, a person took form in front of Jehan. They were seemed intangible, like the memory of a dream after waking up. Still, Jehan knew exactly what they looked like even though he couldn’t truly see them. The latter had nothing to do with the fact he had no eyes. It was as if this person wasn’t truly there. They couldn’t be seen because there was nothing to be seen. Still, Jehan knew they were neither man nor woman, seemed timeless, had red-brown hair and a night sky of freckles splattered all over their skin, even in the places he shouldn’t know of because they were covered in clothes. They were strange clothes, like nothing Jehan had ever seen. They were heavy and floated around him like a crafted and ordered heap of clouds, glowing in all colours one could imagine and even more shades nobody had ever dreamed thinking of. It was as if Jehan was looking into a mirror and seeing a better dressed, actually corporal version of himself but at the same time, he was facing a stranger of whom he knew they shouldn’t be angered or he would regret until the end of time.  
“Hello, Jehan.”  
They smiled. It was blinding and burning as if the sun had just appeared from behind the moon only a few meters away from him. Jehan didn’t say anything. He couldn’t speak.  
“I’m sorry for everything you have to go through, but there is nothing I can change about that. My ability and possibility to influence realms other than my home are more than limited.” They voice was melodious. Like water flowing over a rock, wind whistling through the trees and the fire sparks cracking through the air. Jehan was sure never to have heard anything so divine.  
“But your place isn’t here, so all I can give you is knowledge in hope that it will help you improve your current condition.”  
Who was this person? How could they know anything? How did they even know who Jehan was? There were so many questions and Jehan was sure he was still forgetting some. It was useless to drown in his lack of knowledge, since the other person couldn’t hear him anyway.  
“It is true, how rude of me. My name is Jehan. I am you, so to speak. Or rather another version of you. It is a job to know a lot of things, and so I like to keep myself informed about everything that happens in this existence, especially when it concerns my other selves. Knowledge and understanding are more powerful weapons than you can imagine.”  
They reached for Jehan and for one short moment he felt completely and utterly at peace, as if nothing could ever hurt him, not now and not in the future.  
“What you’ve done was dangerous, Jehan, and what’s worse, it was foolish. You should know Magic of all things is better to be avoided, especially if there is no way to control. Have you any idea of what consequences your actions and wished can and most likely will have?”  
There was an edge of hardness in their voice, as if it was iron being slowly forged into a blade, a blade you knew could either protect you from harm or destroy you in an instant.  
How would Jehan have any idea of consequences? He didn’t even know what had happened, didn’t understand what he had done. He just wanted to go, to find Montparnasse again, to forget magic ever existed!  
“I see.” Now the other Jehan sounded pensive, as if Jehan’s ignorance was something he hadn’t expected and needed to adapt to.  
“You do know why Montparnasse died, is that correct?”  
Jehan wanted to scream. Of course, he knew how he had killed Montparnasse! If he didn’t, he would simply be devastated but not so guilty! If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so miserable!  
“Good. Because your Magic took all the energy Montparnasse needed to be alive from him, you were the only thing that still connected him to the world of the Living. That’s the reason why his ‘ghost’ for lack of a better word, followed you around. However, due to his lack of energy, there was no way he could make you notice him. That is, until the night of Halloween. Halloween is not famous without reason. On this day, the barrier between dead and living weakens. When you took notice of Montparnasse, or rather the rest of his energy, the one your Magic hadn’t been able to absorb the first time, your desire to keep him with you -which is something very natural and only normal to desire, you must understand that- allowed you to absorb the last of his energy into your body. However, only one person’s energy can reside in one body at a time. In a certain way, you forced yourself out of your body by drawing Montparnasse in. It doesn’t really matter whether you intended to so or not. The problem now is that while your energy and your conscience were ejected from your body, your Magic was not, and Montparnasse wasn’t made to survive this kind of Magic. It will slowly but surely absorb his entire energy into itself. Your body will be nothing but an empty shell, but one even you cannot go back to. However, the Magic will continue to draw energy from every single source it can get it from.”  
But what was Jehan supposed to do? His other self said they would try to help him with this situation but as of now, nothing they told him was helping in any way! On the contrary! With every single word they said, they only took every single bit of hope left from Jehan. _What did they want?_  
“You have to understand, Jehan. Your situation is something I have as little as no control over. Only you can change it.”  
If Jehan had had a body, he would have blown up by now and punched his other self with all his strength. Why couldn’t they come straight to the point? _Why were they still talking?_  
“Your Magic might still be in your body, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t completely separated away from it. You must absorb it, so it doesn’t hurt Montparnasse even more. That’s the only way he can survive on the long run. After that, you’ll have to find a new body for yourself. But it can’t be just any body. They have to be dead, or else your energy won’t be able to live in this body, and they need to be Magical, just like you are, or the body will deteriorate from the additional energy your Magic will forever continue to absorb. Do you understand what you have to do to save Montparnasse and to live with him again, Jehan?”  
Jehan had no idea how he was going to achieve this. How was he supposed to absorb his own Magic from his own Body? And what did they mean by ‘you’ll have to find a new body for yourself’? He had nearly as many questions as before.  
“Jehan, do you understand me? I don’t have much time left to explain it to you. Do you understand what I just explained to you?”  
Of course Jehan had understood, but that didn’t mean it made any sense to him.  
“You’ll need to find out the rest on your own, I can’t help you even more. I’ve used up all my energy talking to you. I believe in you, Jehan, you can do it.”  
With these last words, they disappeared, and Jehan was all alone once more. Out of nowhere, the images came back. They changed again and again and again. They were dark, horrifying, deadly, one worse than the other. Jehan couldn’t bear it. Why had they brought him back here? With every single image passing in front of his eyes, burning itself into his memory, Jehan’s mind and energy cracked like porcelain in slow-motion just before it breaks apart. He wanted to get away from there. He wished to go back to Montparnasse. He needed to go home.  
Finally, everything disappeared and the world was back to normal as it was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter! Now to the bad news, I know I said I would upload the story every day until the end, but since I'm on vacation over the weekend, I'm not sure I will be able to upload the chapters on the right day. I'm really sorry about that, but if I can't, I will upload them in one go :)


	6. Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan had hoped everything would turn alright after distancing himself from Montparnasse. But when Magic was involved, he couldn't be anything but wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *spongebob narrator voice* Two weeks later... I finally come back with the next chapter. Two things I have to say for this chapter: First, I'm so sorry I didn't manage to finish this story within the timeframe I set for myself aka Jehanparnasse Week, but I'm still working on it and I have already worked everything out for the last chapter plot wise, so it shouldn't take too long (but at the same time I want to get everything right, so let's just say I plan on getting it finished before Christmas I promise). Second: Remember how I said the Second chapter with 5000 words wouldn't happen again? Well, I was wrong once again. These flashbacks are just not made for being short. I hope you enjoy the chapter and as usual, if you see any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them (as I'm not a native speaker). And now... CURTAIN!
> 
> P.S.: There's a gory description of someone dying, so if you're not confortable with that, please don't read this chapter.

_At first, everything had worked out fine between Jehan and Montparnasse after they had stopped seeing each other. They talked every day and texted even more often. All was good, or rather as good as it could be considering the circumstances._  
Looking back, it probably all began to change when Montparnasse forgot to call Jehan after getting home from a coup with Claquesous, Babet, Gueulemer and the others to tell him he was alright. It was the first time something like that happened. Jehan was worried and stayed up all night but when Montparnasse called the next day, apologised and said he had simply been too tired to even lift his phone, Jehan had simply been glad he was still alive and accepted it. It was only logical after all. It was still too early for him to have gotten all of his energy back and a full night out for the job surely was tiring enough. He hoped Montparnasse would get better soon enough. Needless to say, the first time Montparnasse “forgot” to call wasn’t the last. It happened sometimes but not often enough to make Jehan act and ask upon it. Every single time Montparnasse would apologise and try everything to make up for it. Jehan told himself that they didn’t need to talk to each other every day, they were out of the honeymoon phase where they acted like lovey-dovey teenagers with their first boyfriend. They were grown adults. He wasn’t depended on Montparnasse.   
It took some time until Jehan began to seriously think about the fact that the phone calls grew ever so shorter and the texts grew more and more spare. Montparnasse surely was investing himself into work now that he had the time to do so. He had no obligation to spend a certain amount of time interacting with Jehan. They still talked, he knew Montparnasse was going well, he himself had told him so. But after several weeks, there was no denying the ever so increasing worry bubbling up in his chest. Jehan told himself he was being over dramatic. The fact that Montparnasse hadn’t answered him for the last two days didn’t mean anything. He had promised to keep him updated on his conditions. But what if something had happened? What if a heist or a burglary had gone wrong? The first time he had met Montparnasse he had been chased by someone. What if this person had found him again? He knew that what he was doing was dangerous.  
The missed calls and texts on Montparnasse’s phone began to stack up. The beginning symptoms of the flu didn’t do anything to brighten Jehan’s mood. 

_5 days had passed from the last call when someone knocked on the door. Jehan had just come home from his shift, tired to the bone, and had barely gotten out of his coat when the loud noises echoed through the hallway. When he answered the door, he looked straight into the face of Grantaire, who was hunched over, hands resting on his knees and breathing heavily. He must have run up the stairs. Standing next to him was a tall, lanky girl, with a night sky of freckles sprinkled all over her face. He hair was wild and free, as if she had just run through a forest and the trees had tried to get a grasp of her beauty, messing up her hairstyle in the process. She as well breathed heavily and looked as if something caused her great stress and worry in this very moment._  
“Jehan, good, you’re home. You have to come with us! It’s Montparnasse!” It seemed difficult for Grantaire to speak with all the heavy breathing. He really must have exhausted himself coming to here.   
Immediately, all fatigue fell off from Jehan.   
“What is it? Did something happen? Is he hurt?”  
“You’re gonna have to see for yourself, Ginger,” spat the girl. In less than a second, Jehan was out the door.   
There were a lot of things Jehan imagined while the three of them were on their way to Montparnasse’s place, one worse than the other. Maybe he had been shot. Maybe they had caught him and that’s why he hadn’t answered for the last week and now he had finally managed to escape. What if he had been stabbed? However, none of this was what awaited him when they finally arrived.   
Montparnasse was lying in bed, Claquesous sitting next to him and trying to make him drink something from a mug. As soon as their small group of three entered the room, he got up, gave Montparnasse one last look and left them alone with him. If Montparnasse had looked like he was on the verge of death the last time Jehan had seen him, now he looked like he had stepped over that verge a long time ago. His hair was matt and oily, hanging in lumps and strands around his sunken in face, in which you could see every single bone under the skin. His eyes were closed but from what he could see, they were far too deep into their sockets. A slight shadow from his beard made the entire picture look even worse. Jehan didn’t understand. Montparnasse had told him he was fine the last time they talked! He had told him how he would meet up with the others that evening. He was supposed to be better off, not worse than before!   
Everyone’s eyes were laying on Jehan. He needed a moment to even partially process what he was seeing.   
“What happened to him?” Jehan’s voice was hollow, as if he didn’t understand or was trying his best to keep all emotions away from him for if he didn’t, he wouldn’t bear it.   
“We don’t really know except for the fact that he isn’t sick in the traditional sense of the word. He’s been like this for the last few weeks, getting worse and worse and worse and he always kept us from telling anyone how he really is.”  
“How do you know he’s not sick?”  
“Because I can still feel myself drawing a bit of energy from him. If he were sick my Magic would reject it because it’s a bad kind of energy.” The girl was staring at Montparnasse in a way Jehan couldn’t identify but somehow, someway, he understood. However, right now he had more important things to do.   
“If were taking energy from him, we have to leave him alone!”  
Once more, it only took a matter of seconds before they were out the door. 

_“Why is he like this? He looks like he could die any moment! What happened? What can we do? What can I do?” Jehan was scared. He had thought Montparnasse was in a bad state when he had last seen him, but it was nothing compared to this. His words were hastened, one stumbling over the over in a frantic competition to get over his lips the fastest, in such a hurry that his brain had trouble keeping up with what he was saying. What Grantaire said next didn’t help him one bit._  
“We have no idea what happened. The only thing we’re pretty much sure is that his current condition has something to do with Magic.”  
The last functioning fuse in Jehan’s blew up. His voice became a high-pitched scream.   
“But I stayed away! We only spoke over the phone! I haven’t seen him for over a month! Was it you? It was you, wasn’t it? How dare you tell me to stay away from him because I’m hurting him with my Magic and not do the same? What kind of friends are you to knowingly hurt him? You’re awful!” He could have gone on for hours had Grantaire not grabbed his wrists and forced him to stop speaking.   
“Jehan, it isn’t us! Jehan, LISTEN TO ME! Jehan, it couldn’t have been us. We’ve known Montparnasse much longer than you have, but our Magic has never hurt him to the same degree yours has. He had never grown so weak before meeting you, that’s why I told you, you had to stay away from him if you cared about him. But since he has only grown worse since he stopped seeing you each day and shut himself in his room whenever he wasn’t working with Patron-Minette. We called you because right now, you’re the one who knows him best. Do you know of anyone he met around the same time you two got to know each other and with whom he has spent a lot of time? It doesn’t matter whether they’re Magical or not, it is very well possible you simply don’t know about that.”  
Tears were beginning to pool in Jehan’s eyes. Too much was happening, everything was too much, he couldn’t bear it.   
“No, there wasn’t anybody, not that I know of. If there is they must have met before I have Montparnasse back the hairpin because after that, I would have noticed with how much time Montparnasse and I had been spending together. I mean, there wouldn’t have been time for anyone…”  
This time it was the girl who interrupted him. “What did you just say?”  
“Montparnasse and I had been spending literally most of our free time together.”  
“No, not that. Before that, with the hairpin.”  
“Montparnasse and I met because had dropped a big hairpin when he ran into me. Later, he broke into my apartment and I gave it back to him.”  
“Do you know if he still has it?”  
“I have no idea! We haven’t spoken about it since that night. I haven’t even seen it since then!” She was making Jehan even more stressed by being so serious about the whole affair. What had this damn hairpin to do with all of this and why did she care so much? Montparnasse was dying in the room next to them!  
“What did it look like? Tell me as detailed as possible, it’s really important!”  
“I don’t remember well, but it was pretty big! It had gemstones at the end, they looked like flowers! What’s so important about a damn hairpin anyway?”  
Now it was the girl’s time to lose all control of herself. She nearly threw Jehan into the nearest wall.   
“HOW CAN YOU BE SO BLIND! I JUST WANT TO HELP! YOU THINK I DON’T CARE ABOUT PARNASSE AND SERIOUSLY ONLY THINK ABOUT A DAMN HAIRPIN IF IT WASN’T RELATED? HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT THAT MAYBE IT WASN’T A FUCKING PERSON DRAINING HIM LIKE THIS? HAVE YOU EVER STOPPED DROWNING YOURSELF IN SELF-PITY AND CONSIDERED SOMETHING ELSE BUT YOURSELF?”  
Jehan was stunned, on one hand from the unexpected retort, on the other hand from the slight hit to the head when his back had crashed with the wall. It seemed Grantaire was at loss of words as well.   
With rage on her face, she stormed of into the direction of Montparnasse’s room. As fast as they could, Grantaire and Jehan followed her.   
Inside the room, the girl was turning everything over. The carpet was thrown back, the drawers pulled open, the shelves emptied of their content. She frantically continued looking everywhere she could think of, opening boxes and throwing out clothes to see if they were hiding anything. As soon as they understood what she was looking for, Jehan and Grantaire rushed to help her.   
“Where can he have put a damn hairpin! It can’t be that easy to hide something like that?”, groaned the girl in exasperation after half an hour without results.   
“Maybe he already sold it? I mean, by now the only place we maybe haven’t looked at yet is under his mattress.”, answered Grantaire, visibly equally as frustrated and annoyed by the fruitless search. As soon as he finished his sentence, the girl had already jumped over to the bed Montparnasse was currently lying in and tried to grasp anything that was hidden under the mattress. The fact that by now, with all the movement and the loud noises, Montparnasse still showed no reaction was pure proof of how bad the state he was in truly was. To everyone’s surprise, it was with a loud yell of triumph that the girl removed her arm from under the mattress, her hand clutching around a small but very distinguished bag of exactly the right size to protect the hairpin they were so desperately looking for.   
“Is that the fucking pin?”, she said and threw the bag at Jehan in a wide curve. He barely managed to catch it. Inside was the hairpin. It had exactly the same design as Jehan remembered it. It glimmered in the light and threw back the multitudes of colours it was made of.   
“Yeah. That’s it. Do you really think that could be the reason for Montparnasse’s condition?”  
“I have nothing else left. It’s nothing a doctor can help with, so we have to try out everything to help him. And I don’t want to put a burden on you, but,” she made a slight pause, “could you take care of it? I have a little brother and I don’t want him to be in contact with something like that if it could be dangerous.”  
“Yes, of course, I understand. I’ll do it, don’t worry. I’ll do everything to help Montparnasse and if it keeps your family out of danger, it’ll be for the better.”  
For the first time since Grantaire and her had knocked onto his door, she smiled. Shortly before getting to the door of Montparnasse’s apartment, she turned around once more.   
“I believe we haven’t been introduced yet. My name is Éponine Thénardier. I seriously hope everything turns out okay. Goodnight!”  
Without another word, the door fell shut. 

_When he walked back home, Jehan had the strangest impression between not wanting to leave Montparnasse alone and walking as slow as possible as to limit the distance between them as much as possible and feeling the need to run from him, to put as much space between them as possible. Deep in his subconscious, Jehan was still convinced it was somewhat his fault that Montparnasse had ended up like this. If he hadn’t met Montparnasse, if he hadn’t offered him tea, none of this would have happened. He would still constantly put himself in danger and even though being with Jehan hadn’t changed anything about that, at least he would be in the physical and mental state to put himself in danger, something no one would have thought would end up being something good in the end. Yet here he was, thinking that if Montparnasse would be currently running from the police forces in hope not to get arrested and spend the next years in prison, it would be the happiest Jehan had ever been._

_As soon as the door of his apartment was closed and locked, Jehan left the small bag with the hairpin on the drawer in his entry. He had gripped it so tight on his way home, red welts were beginning to show on his palms. Jehan let himself fall on his couch and stayed there for the following hours, his brain playing catch with the thoughts of Montparnasse, the slowly gnawing sense of hunger and the uncertain but desperate need to know what to do next. He didn’t move until late at night and when he did, it was simply to fall back into his bed and draw his covers over himself a few minutes later._

_Whatever plans Jehan had thought of, they flew right out of the window the next morning as he woke up. His throat was scratching and what should have come out of his mouth as a moan resulted in the very faint croak. The air and the blanket on top of him felt as if they would suffocate him at any moment. It was one of the most horrible ways a modern human being could think of waking up: sick, unable to breathe and with eyelids so heavy it would have taken a crane to lift them. The headache as well as the fewer he was sure he had made everything worse. There was only one possible outcome to this situation: Jehan was nailed to the bed for the time being._

_Most doctors and even medical amateurs would agree that with enough rest and maybe even the proper medication, the flu or any other sickness should go away and the person being sick should feel better. And at first, that’s how it was. By the end of the week, Jehan could stand up relatively securely and move around his apartment, albeit the activity being very tiring. But whatever the result, it was an improvement to the sick ridden half-corpse lying in bed all day he had been 6 days earlier. He had even had tea with Grantaire and Cosette, although it had been shorter than normal and Jehan felt quite sorry for that, considering he hadn’t seen either of them for a week. However, it only became worse from then on. When Montparnasse texted him for the first time the week after that, Jehan had finally woken up at 4 pm to read the message and was delighted that he had been better and even gotten up to make himself something small and eat it at the dinner table, a feat he hadn’t been able to accomplish the days before. They continued texting, Jehan’s answers turning up late considering his unusual and very throughout sleeping schedule. With each passing day, he could feel himself growing weaker. He knew he needed to go out, to see some people, to “recharge his batteries” so to speak or his Magic would finish him off to the point he couldn’t move, but Jehan couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he spent his entire time inside, alone, only communicating with others and even that becoming more and more rare. It wasn’t unusual for Jehan to disappear for some time and just do his own thing. Nobody wondered where he was, everyone knew he would tell them if anything was wrong. Everyone except Montparnasse. Jehan was lying dead to the living in his bed and the frantic knocking on his door, as if somebody was kept prisoner on the other side was nowhere near loud enough to wake him up. It took Montparnasse exactly 10 minutes and 37 seconds to go down the stairs, around the building, climb up the façade and open the kitchen window just like he had done so all these months ago, when he had broken into Jehan’s apartment for the first time. This time, it was for far less selfish reasons. Montparnasse’s steps carried him immediately to Jehan’s bedroom, as if he could feel that he was there. Just like Jehan when Éponine and Grantaire had taken him to see Montparnasse, the latter was shocked by the state the other was in. Where Montparnasse had simply been missing his rightful energy and strenght, Jehan was craving it in the most desperate sense of the word. As soon as Montparnasse stepped into the room, he could feel something was wrong, as if some sort of disease hung in the air, as if the bad omen was doing everything to make him aware of its presence in these Rooms. Throwing all caution and instinct of survival into the wind, Montparnasse battled against his gut feeling which told him to run away as he could until he was standing at Jehan’s bedside. He could feel himself being torn apart in every direction and it took all his willpower to reach out and shake Jehan’s shoulder wake him up. Oh, what a shoulder it was, pale and frail, sickly and weak, breaking and cracking apart under the faintest touch. This was what ice flowers must feel like just before they melt. The fleeting notion of beauty which was not supposed to be appreciated, to be touched. For once in existence, the impression given of by Magic was right. The moment Montparnasse’s fingertips touched the surface of Jehan’s frozen cold, icy white skin, he knew it was over. He should have known that Magic was not to be taken lightly, that Jehan had been right to be distraught about it. He should have known no to play with the Devil._  
Montparnasse could feel himself scream, could feel the strain put upon his vocal chords but he couldn’t hear it. The sound of his bones cracking was simply too loud. He could feel the floor disappearing under his feet, could feel himself being lifted into the air by something that was anything but natural. He could feel the sharp wood of the frame and the glass where they cut into his back, could sense the window cracking underneath the pressure his manhandled body put on it. The moment he broke through the window, hanging in mid-air, he could see Jehan’s eyes snapping open. Then, he fell.   
Montparnasse’s last thought was that Jehan shouldn’t never have seen him like that. 


	7. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the saying goes: Every story has a happy ending. And it it's not happy, it's not the end. And there is no way their ending could be anything else but hilarious.

The bed was empty. On the nightstand, the bright blue digits of the alarm clock were blinking incessantly.   
_2:37pm_  
Jehan was alone in his bedroom. Since his meeting with his other self, he had constantly been occupied with his desperate and unsuccessful attempts of making any sense of the new information he had been given. He knew what he allegedly needed to do. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do it, or even if he could do it in the first place. He didn’t know how his other self knew crucial information like that or how they had been able to communicate with him. No matter how he turned over his thoughts and contemplated them from every possible angle, he didn’t find anything new, least of all answers. It was utterly frustrating.   
Days passed. Montparnasse had begun to take on Jehan’s life, for sitting around in the apartment all day, imprisoned by the same four walls was simply too insufferable. As it turned out, he was very adept at everything he needed to do. The customers where charmed and enchanted whenever he was the one on duty at the bookshop and even though by now every single person who knew Jehan surely had noticed something was off with him, but so far nobody had mentioned anything. It was a very awkward and unusual atmosphere whenever Montparnasse was interacting with anyone who thought they were talking or interacting with Jehan. But so far, he managed not to make anyone to suspicious of his predicament. Montparnasse hoped it would stay that way for as long as possible or at least as long as was strictly necessary. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough things to deal with.  
Jehan kept his distance. It wasn’t that difficult, for no one could have kept him from doing so anyway. There were certain advantages to his non-corporeal form, at least considering the situation he was in. He visited Montparnasse’s grave. He hadn’t been at his funeral, hadn’t even given him the honour and respect to make sure he was treated they way he deserved after his death, too enclosed in his grief and suffering to think about something obvious like that. Maybe it was better that way. Jehan would only have made everything worse by showing up. Éponine would probably have beat him up as soon as he stepped foot into her field of vision. Now that he thought about it, he deserved it.   
The grave was nothing special, even less than that. A simple wooden cross that would wither away after a few winters was the only indication of anyone having died.   
_Raphaël Montparnasse  
31.11.1996 – 24.10.2017 _  
Somebody had placed a bouquet on the ground. It was small and mostly made of leaves. No flowers grew in this kind of season. It was reassuring to know there were people who cared for and took care of Montparnasse better Jehan could ever accomplish.   
In the apartment, Montparnasse noticed Jehan’s prolonged absences. He tried to find out where he went, but with their limited way of communicating, there was only so much he could do. When he left an empty apartment to go out, he left notes on the kitchen table, nailed to the wood by the mug Jehan had first offered him tea from. When he came back, and the piece of paper was still there, untouched, he couldn’t help but feel a sting in his chest. Rationally, he knew Jehan couldn’t touch it, couldn’t move, couldn’t show his reaction to it. But it didn’t change anything about the small spark of hope that set his lungs aflame every single time he felt the temperatures drop around him, didn’t change the Goosebumps on his skin under the warm blankets when he went sleeping, only to wake up to everything being normal. It was a queer situation he couldn’t find peace and closure in. Most of the time, he didn’t even know if he wanted closure. There was the fear of Jehan disappearing forever. Montparnasse wasn’t sure he would be able to continue like this if it happened.   
Jehan didn’t know how to react to Montparnasse’s devotion. He wanted to accept it, to be happy about it, but deep within, his instincts told him he didn’t deserve that. Offering him a second chance at life after having ruined the first one was the least he could do. Montparnasse should go on without him, leave him behind and find his own path. But once more, Jehan had kept him from truly exhaust all the possibilities which offered itself to Montparnasse now that he was alive once more. Before either of them could advance and decide what to do next, Jehan had first to figure out a way to free Montparnasse of his magic. After all these weeks, he still hadn’t made on step forward. He still had no idea how he would extract his Magic from his old body.   
With every passing day he spent trying to find a solution to his problem, he had the feeling of distancing himself from it. Jehan couldn’t think of any spells - not that such a thing as spells existed, it was more the quite impossible act of channelling surplus energy gained through Magic in a controlled way - that even remotely resembled the feat he wanted to achieve. Of course, there wasn’t no possibility to solve the problem in a non-Magical way either. For the Hopeful, it was an utterly hopeless situation.   
Magic didn’t work, so Jehan decided he had to resort to other means. Where Magic had failed, it turned out logic and intuition where the key. To extract something, one had first to know what they wanted to extract, and it had to be located. This proved to be difficult enough in itself, for Jehan had absolutely no idea how to find Magic. Ever since he was born it had been with him, and he had only been able to notice it through outside symptoms. Never because he perceived the Magic itself. In the end, it wasn’t knowing how his Magic was supposed to feel like that helped him find it, but knowing how Montparnasse was supposed to feel like. His other self had been right. The two of them didn’t belong together.  
Where Montparnasse had been cool but reassuringly so, like the shade of a tree on a hot summers day, now he felt downright cold, no matter what situation he was in or how he felt. Whether he was happy or sad, tired or on the run to his next project. There always was a thin impression of ice surrounding him, just like a frost covered car on the first days of Winter. And with every passing day, just as spring arrived and the days began to grow warmer, Jehan had to witness with horror and dread how Montparnasse began to disappear as if a cold, icy castle of glass was being built around the essence of his being. And while Jehan’s body was a vibrant and colourful as ever –something he had never noticed while he was still inhabiting it– the person inside him was fading like an old photography.   
Montparnasse himself didn’t notice.   
There seemed to be a difference from getting your energy stolen from you like a pickpocket stealing your wallet, and constantly losing your money because there’s a hole in your pocket you don’t notice. The fact that there are no outside causes doesn’t mean the result will not be the same.  
From this moment on, this began to evolve fast.   
Two days later, Montparnasse woke up and something had changed. He couldn’t tell what. The room was relatively warm, just like it was supposed to be when Jehan wasn’t there. He went on with his morning as usual. Getting up, showering, styling his hair, brewing coffee, getting dressed and finally indulging in drinking the coffee. As soon as he closed the door of the apartment, his thoughts about anything that could possibly have changed had all disappeared, like the smoke of a cigarette in the wind.   
Inside the apartment, all of Jehan’s attention was focused on the small note written on yellow paper, jammed under the black mug with coffee stains still painting the inside. The ink had barely dried yet. In long, swinging and irregular letters, one closer to the other and all equally unreadable. It had been several days since Montparnasse had last left a note for him. It had been several days since Jehan had left his side. Montparnasse never left a note when he knew Jehan was there.   
That must be it. It was time to leave. Montparnasse deserved life much more than Jehan anyway. 

Two days passed. The temperature stayed warm. Montparnasse had just thrown this day’s note into the trash when the phone rang. He picked up. On the other side of the line was Courfeyrac. Neither of them had talked very often to each other.   
“Jehan, you have to come to the hospital. It’s urgent. Grantaire had an accident.” His voice was laced with fear and desperation, like the lace motives a grandmother would stitch. For any other person, Montparnasse wouldn’t have rushed to get to them. But Grantaire, he knew. Grantaire had helped him when he was sick. Grantaire wanted the best for Éponine and Grantaire. Grantaire was a good guy. Whatever happened to him, Montparnasse would be there for him.   
Ever since he had first laid foot into a hospital, they had been things Montparnasse despised. They were too big, as if the staff didn’t want you to find the person you were looking for and the different wings with all their purposes only served to remind you of all the different and horrible ways you could lose somebody. They were supposed to be places of well-being, but nobody ever goes to the hospital if everything is all right.   
Courfeyrac was waiting for him at the main entrance. Inside the building, everything was quiet. Visitation hours were already over and no one, not even a nurse, crossed their path on their way to the rest of the group. Everyone was already there, even Musichetta who was currently sitting between Joly and Bossuet, holding their hands tightly between hers and trying to comfort them. From what Montparnasse could remember, Grantaire and the two of them had been very close. In the middle of this group, these _friends_ , Montparnasse didn’t know where to put himself. The plastic seats were cold when he sat down. From time to time, a nurse would pass by and one of the others would get up to ask her something. The door on the other side of the hallway stayed close.   
Nobody knew how many hours had passed when finally, a doctor came to see them. He was everything one could imagine a hospital doctor to look like. White coat going to his knees, a name tag and one pen inside his coat pocket. Generally unmemorable. As he walked in their direction and came to stand in front of their little group, he gave the impression of having done this a lot more often than he liked, but that his distaste for the general implications of what he was about to do didn’t keep him from getting used to it. It was probably better that way. Nobody wants an over emotional doctor.   
“Do any of you happen to be related to the patient?”  
They all looked at each other. Knowing Grantaire’s family situation, it was for the best not to involve his family, no matter what had happened or would happen. It was Combeferre who said out loud what everyone had on their minds.   
“His relatives knowing anything about his current situation would probably only make everything worse. We may not be blood relatives of Grantaire’s, but we would prefer it if you didn’t try to contact them. It’s also what he would want. Nothing Grantaire has ever said of his family situation has led us to believe they should be the kind of people to take care of him should anything ever happen.”  
Understanding, the doctor nodded. Montparnasse guessed that family problems passed through these doors more often than anybody would have liked.   
“I understand. This makes the situation more difficult, but not anymore unexpected. Considering you did all come on such short notice, am I wrong in assuming at least one of you is listed as his emergency contact?”  
This time, everyone looked at Bossuet and Joly. The two of them looked at each other. Musichetta’s gaze kept alternating between the two of them.   
“I think that would be us.”  
“May I request to speak to you in private then? I do not want to keep anything from the rest of you, but it would be easier if we did it that way first.”  
Looking around anxiously, Bossuet and Joly got up and followed the doctor. Montparnasse saw how Bossuet tried to hold hands with Musichetta for as long as possible and how Joly looked back at her several times. Whatever had happened: it had to be something serious.   
Whatever the doctor had to tell them, it didn’t take that long. After 5 minutes, Joly and Bossuet came back, fingers gripped into each other’s clothes. From where he was sitting, Montparnasse could even see their knuckles stand out in stark white. It was something _very_ serious.   
“He said…” began Bossuet but had to stop himself. A heart wrecking sob broke free from his throat and he threw himself into Joly’s arms, who didn’t look as if he was holding himself very well together either. Immediately, Bahorel and Musichetta were at their sides, taking them into their arms, leading them back to the others so they could sit down. They rubbed their backs, Musichetta whispered something into their ears and hugged them with everything she could, as if she planned on never let them go again. That’s probably what crossed her mind in this very moment. Eventually, Joly managed to breathe well enough again to speak.   
“The doctor said, Grantaire suffered brain damage when he hit the concrete. They couldn’t help him in the operation without possible further damage. He’s in a coma right now and… they don’t know if he will ever wake up. They’re not even sure if, if…” He broke out into sobs again.   
“They’re not even sure he can survive that,” Bossuet completed the sentence. He had sobered up a little in the short time Joly had begun to asses the situation. Now, his gaze was fixed somewhere in mid-air, starring at nothing but maybe his own thoughts. His fingers and nails were gripped around Musichettas hand, which she had thrown around his shoulder. It had to hurt.   
Behind Montparnasse, Jehan was following the entire conversation without anyone knowing he was there. He had had no other choice but to rush to the hospital when Courfeyrac had called. He had even arrived before Montparnasse. Grantaire and he had always had a very unique relationship, but one of the most important ones he had in his entire life nonetheless. They might have different views and opinions on Magic and everything related to it, but that didn’t negate the kind of bond that formed between two people who shared the same fate and suffering. When he had seen everyone waiting as they were, Jehan had known he would be able to see whatever was happening with Grantaire while he was in the operating theatre, which he was sure was behind the door they had all been starring at. So, he waited and suffered in silence with all of them. When Joly and Bossuet came back to deliver the news, he felt as if his entire essence was being torn apart from pain and guilt. Why was so much bad happening around him lately? Grantaire had always been a good person, had always done everything in his power to help him and now he was vegetating on a bleak hospital bed with an unknown future. Of all people Jehan knew, he was one of them who deserved this the least.   
Unbeknown to everyone, Jehan suffered with all of them. He wanted to cry, to hug someone, to share his grief. To his greatest despair, he was imprisoned in solitude, unable to talk, to touch, to communicate. Jehan just wanted to drown himself in his hopelessness, when he was struck with pain and desperation ever greater than his own. Without any hesitation, he immediately knew it was Grantaire who was reaching out to him, trying to find someone in a situation like his own, hoping to find anything that could help him. Where Montparnasse in his ethereal form had always felt cold and icy, now it felt heavy and crushing, like a cliff laying on one’s shoulders, pressing into the ground, omnipresent and impossible to escape. Jehan tried to come to him, to meet him, but it seemed as if both of them were glued to the place, kept apart by their own existence in this hallway. To Jehan’s great surprise and astonishment, Grantaire’s voice carried over to him. It sounded different, as if he was listening to it through strong rainfall, but Grantaire without a doubt. There was no way he could be mistaken about that.   
“What are you doing here, Jehan? I always thought you had changed ever since Montparnasse disappeared. How are you sitting down there but not inside your body?”  
“I… It’s Montparnasse who’s sitting down there. I absorbed all of his energy and threw myself out of my own body, if you will.”  
“How did that happen? How is something like that even possible?”  
“I don’t know, it just did. You know Magic is not something we can control or understand. But explain me what happened to you. The doctor didn’t explain anything. Where is your body? Why aren’t with it?”  
Jehan could practically feel the Grantaire stalling to answer with his entire essence. But in the End, he didn’t hold back.   
“I was on my way to a bar to meet up with the others. I was just walking over a green light when a car turned around the corner. The driver must have overlooked me or something else must have happened, but they didn’t stop and the next thing I know I’m here, in this goddamn hospital, looking down at myself as if I was some kind of wax figure, waiting to play the role of a corpse in some crime series.”  
“You have to go back! If nobody’s in your body right now, you can take control of it once again. Look how grief stricken everyone is.”  
“You think I didn’t try? All that I manage to achieve is passing through the table like some kind of ghost, which… I guess I am now.”  
Immediately, the atmosphere changed, became more cumbersome, heavier, as if Jehan was stuck in a room full of tar, without a chance, to move, to breathe, to escape. He couldn’t see Grantaire or his expression, but had he had a face to express himself in this very moment, Jehan was sure it would have shown the pain of the entire world.  
Jehan was probably the person who could understand him the most in this moment, and yet he couldn’t understand him at all. Their situations were so different, as were their actions that had led them to wherever they were stuck now. Grantaire had done nothing to deserve this. It had all been the fault of the driver and whatever he had done to act so carelessly. Jehan on the other hand… even though he rationally knew anything his Magic did was nowhere near the things he could control. However, he also knew that without the things he had done, all of this would never have happened. He could have done something against that damn hairpin, he could have prevented Montparnasse form getting anywhere near him, he could have done or not done so much more, and everything would have been better than how it was right now. At least he seemed to have cut off Montparnasse from the Magic which he guessed he could count as a small victory. From a general perspective, their situation couldn’t however be described as anything else than abysmal.   
It was Grantaire’s voice which pulled him out of his thoughts once more.   
“What are you going to do now?”  
Now, it was Jehan’s turn to pause. What _was_ he about to do? His other self had told him about finding a new body, but did he truly want that? Could he return to the Living, start a new life? Joly and Bossuet were still crying and holding onto each other. A few other members of the Amis had tears in their eyes as well. Oh, how he longed to have them in his arms, to be held, to be part of them once more. But he feared that door had fallen shut forever. 

Several hours had passed when Montparnasse was back at the apartment. With a heavy and dull sound, the door closed behind him. They had established a plan to assure someone was always ready and had time in case Grantaire woke up. Denial being the first step of grief seemed to be true after all. The sun was rising, and Montparnasse was in the bathroom, ready to finally fall into bed and sleep the entire rest of the week through. To his great disdain, this was the exact moment his phone rang. This time, it was Feuilly on the other side of the line.   
“Jehan, quick, tell me, have you heard anything about Grantaire?”  
“No, what, did something happen?”  
“Joly and Bossuet just called me. Apparently Grantaire showed up on their doorstep and said goodbye. I didn’t really understand, but they said he seemed really different. We’re trying to call everyone, but nobody has seen him since and they didn’t get any answer from him. Apparently, he was gone too quickly.”  
Montparnasse’s head was swirling. Too much was happening too quickly. Mechanically, he concentrated on the phone call again.   
“No, I haven’t heard or seen him. But I’ll keep you updated if anything comes up, okay?”  
Without looking at the screen, he ended the call. Where was Grantaire? What had happened? Why did he say goodbye to Joly and Bossuet? Why wasn’t he in the hospital? There were so many questions. His phone vibrated. This time, it was a message in a group chat from Enjolras.   
_Guys, R jst left my aprtment!!!!! Jst like w/ Jolllly and Bossuet, he said goodbye and how srry he was bt seemed rlly weird???_  
Immediately, the responses began flooding in. As it seemed, Montparnasse wasn’t the only one in constant contact with his phone, which came to no surprise if he was being honest.   
_Why didn’t you stop him?? Why didn’t you write earlier? Did he seem physically okay?_  
 _My phone was on the table and he didn’t want 2 come in. It ws dark but he seemed fine._  
It went on and on. When Feuilly was the next to write about Grantaire dropping by at his place, Montparnasse knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep any time soon.   
Two hours later, Montparnasse was the only one left to receive a visit from Grantaire. A steaming cup of coffee in front of him, he was reading the messages from the group chat over and over again, trying to find sense in Grantaire’s behaviour. There wasn’t any.   
It was 9:23am when there was a knock on his door. With a jump and a few big steps, Montparnasse opened. The picture which offered itself to him was simultaneously everything he had expected and nothing like it. It was Grantaire, about that there was no doubt. Curly black hair, falling over his forehead and partially obscuring his vision. But everything was wrong. He didn’t have the same sheepish stance he had had all the times Montparnasse had met him previously. The look in his eyes was all wrong, too sad, too hopeful, too insecure.   
Nobody said anything. They were standing there, each of them standing on their own side of the door, trying to find something to say. It was Montparnasse who found himself breaking the ice.   
“Grantaire. I thought you would drop by.” Stepping aside, hoping this time he would accept the invitation to come inside, which he had refused for all the others. To his surprise, Grantaire took a step inside the flat, stopping just in front of Montparnasse. He opened his mouth several times and closed it again, without a sound leaving his lips. It was obvious, he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to do it.   
Cautiously, almost shyly, Montparnasse touched his hand, hanging loosely from Grantaire’s side. They moment their skin made contact, it was as if a dam had broken. Before he knew what had happened, Montparnasse found himself buried by Grantaire who was crushing him in a hug.   
“God, Parnasse, I’ve missed you so much.”  
Without knowing where this thought came from, this ridiculous, impossible, heart-breaking thought, Montparnasse pushed himself away to look him in the eyes.   
_” Jehan?”_   
And with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips, all the while still very much looking like Grantaire, Jehan nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, with another finished project (finally!), even though it's like a month and a half late. I hope you enjoyed the story and I'm kind of really sorry I'm unable to write anything happy and fluffy for Jehanparnasse but maybe for the next time! You never know! Please don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, comment always make my day!  
> Until next time! (No idea when that will be though) <3
> 
> P.S.: In case you were wondering, yes, I did write the Amis originally adressing Montparnasse as Montparnasse instead of Jehan far too often in this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hesitate to leave kudos if you liked the fic or let me know what you think of it by leaving a comment or write me on tumblr at [helene-of-flowers](http://helene-of-flowers.tumblr.com/welcome)


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